Dying To Live
by i am a good fighter
Summary: Revised with shorter chapters. We've all wondered 'What if I could live my life over again' Well, what if you had no choice? Blossom finds out, in a story told to her diary..
1. Default Chapter

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  


AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is not at all like the TV show, so I would call it an 'alternate reality' fiction, and have rated it PG-13 due to its dark nature and a very few instances of strong language. If you want a cartoon-type fiction, please go no further. 

Blossom is the centerpiece of this story, she tells it from her perspective to her diary. The idea behind it is not original. It is taken from one of my favorite works of fiction, 'Replay' by Ken Grimwood (1986, Arbor House, NY). Just like in the book, there are no real answers to the questions raised. It's up to each of us to make up our own minds what we think about life, death and what comes after. This story differs from the book in two major regards: One, the book is, in a way, a love story. That would certainly not be the case involving the PpG. Secondly, in addition to the mysteries of living and dying, the book also centers on the concept of fixing past mistakes. My story doesn't go into that in great depth. Blossom does agonize over things she's done, but spends most of her time just dealing with the situation she finds herself in. It's also considerably shorter than the 300 plus page novel.

Some people think when you are doing an adaptation, you are being unfair to the characters; you are just making them actors in someone else's play. There is some truth to that. Craig McCracken said in an interview he didn't want to see 'PpG do Titanic'. But I wanted the experience of doing an adaptation at least once, and I believe I have kept things within the Powerpuff universe, even if it's not humor. How many plots of movies, TV shows, cartoons, etc. are really adaptations of someone else's idea? Lots of 'em, I can tell you that. It's also my first attempt at writing in the first person. I looked at it as good practice.

Dates used here regarding certain 'events' from the TV show have no relation to the order with which we've seen them. A story like this needs some continuity and the show has little or none, so I had to create some. I've also taken a bit of artistic license with the PpG's ages. They actually grow older, while on the show they're assumed to be five forever.

Comments would be most appreciated, and I hope you like it enough to find the book and read it. If you don't like it, blame me, not the novel 'Replay'. It's too good a book to pass up. It can be bought new at Amazon.com; good used copies can be found through web sites such as www.bookfinder.com, or you may find a copy at your local library.

  
  


ONE

  


Dear Diary: I don't know where to start, so I guess I'll start at the beginning. I know, that sounds really dumb, but I am filled with questions for which there are no answers. Just when I thought I had the perfect explanation for all of it, too. Now my thoughts are a confused mess. Maybe writing it down will help. Well, here goes. Oh, wait. It might be easier if I just write down conversations the way I remember them, even though it might look funny to anyone who reads this. I don't plan on ever letting anyone get their hands on you, though, Dear Diary. I'm doing this for me, I just hope it works.

I died August 19, 2000, on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. All our lives we knew that our jobs were dangerous, that something like this could happen. But I never believed it would happen to me. I was too smart, too prepared, too many other things that I would soon find out I wasn't at all. And when it happened, I was wrong about that, too. I really thought dying would hurt a lot more than it did. I hardly felt a thing. No, what hurt was seeing my sisters' faces, feeling their tears splashing on me; knowing that they knew I was about to leave them forever.

I still don't know for sure how it happened, because I always try to be careful. I knew that giant porcupine-monster's quills could be trouble; in fact, I warned Buttercup and Bubbles to stay away from it. It launched a whole bunch of those quills at us when we first got to it; some of them went right through trees and buried themselves in the sides of the concrete and stone buildings of downtown. Making sure we all stayed a safe distance away, I had Bubbles stun it with one of her sonic blasts, and I hit it with my ice-breath. The thing fell over, crushing a store, but now its unprotected belly was exposed, just like I wanted. The three of us moved in and whaled on it pretty good. I was sure we'd finished it, and I was about to give Buttercup the order to throw it into orbit when I felt something like a bee stinging me in the middle of my back. It had to have been a ricochet from one of those first quills, because I watched the thing come out of my chest and go right through a parked car. Like I said, I hardly felt it, but I couldn't breathe. I fell to my knees and when I looked down, there was a dark red spot spreading on the front of my dress.

I must have been dead in seconds, but the whole thing seemed to be happening in slow motion. I was on my back, looking up at the perfect blue sky. I could hear the Girls screaming and then they were leaning over me, crying, pleading with me to hang on, their eyes telling me they knew it was too late. There was no pain, but I felt cold, so cold. I tried to tell them not to worry, everything would be OK, but no words came out, only a gurgle and something warm and wet and salty. I could see the time on Bubbles' watch read 1:17, then I couldn't see anything anymore, but I could feel them on the ground next to me, hugging me. The last thing I remember hearing was Buttercup sobbing "No, Blossom, please, I love you!"

I thought to myself "So, this is what it's like. No bright light at the end of a tunnel, no angels with trumpets, only an icy darkness. No watching your life replay itself in front of you."

I couldn't have been more wrong.

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


TWO

  


I felt warm and toasty and it wasn't dark at all. There were bright lights and LOTS of angels, only they were on the Christmas tree a few feet away. I was sitting on the couch and Professor had the camcorder going, on Bubbles as she sat on the floor, happily ripping the paper off of a package. I thought to myself that this was a strange place to begin watching my way-too-short life; shouldn't things have started with my earliest memory? As I waited for the next little piece of my history to flash by, I hoped that they would all be good ones. And, since Christmas time was always the best of the best, why NOT start here? I just couldn't remember what Christmas this was. Each one was wonderful, though I used to feel guilty over how much stuff we got when other kids got little or nothing. Buttercup finally managed to convince me that we gave back to the world, big time, and I didn't feel so bad about it.

"Geez, Blossom, wake up! Here!"

Buttercup was impatiently thrusting a package at me. I took it, and I knew immediately something was terribly wrong. I KNEW what was inside. It was the chemistry set Professor had gotten me for Christmas, 1998. I LOVED it; he would let me play with it down in the lab while I watched him work on his stuff. So it was 1998. I was just over a month past my fifth birthday. But I was confused. If I was seeing my life flash before my eyes, like the saying went, it made sense that I would know what was in the box. But, why was I sitting there holding the package when I should have been just a spirit floating somewhere above, watching myself as I experienced the thrill of seeing my new toy for the first time? There was no thrill. My skin began to crawl. Why did everything around me seem so real, like it was happening RIGHT NOW?

"Blossom, honey, what's the matter?"

Professor's words shocked me into action. I started to carefully pull at the tape, like I always did. I hated destroying the wrapping job that time and care had created. Bubbles and Buttercup just tore the paper off.

"For crying out loud, just open it!" Buttercup was frowning at me.

My stomach felt like it was full of bugs, chewing away. My hands were shaking. I grabbed the top of the box with both hands, and ripped. The box ended up halfway across the room. My life wasn't passing before my eyes, I was stuck here in this one place in time and everything was different!

I heard a shriek come out of me as I raced for the powder room and slammed the door. I got on my knees, hugging the bowl just in case, until my insides quieted down. The coolness of the porcelain felt good. What was going on? I couldn't remember anything like this! Then, Professor was at the door, peeking inside, asking if I was sick, and I screamed at him to get out; using a word I had NEVER spoken in my life.

I should stop here for a second, Dear Diary. You might wonder how I knew a word like that. The truth is, I knew a lot of bad words. We heard them all the time from the bad guys we busted. If they didn't care about breaking the law, you don't really think they'd worry about corrupting our morals, do you? I knew it was wrong to say them, especially the ones I didn't even know the meaning of. But I couldn't help myself a few times, so I hope you can forgive me. Besides, like I said already, no one's going to be reading this. I know, that doesn't make it okay, but I did say them and I'm sorry. All right, back to the story.

Needless to say, after more yelling and cussing on my part, including the shocking statement that I didn't care if I never got another present, I was banished to my room with orders to think about the consequences of my actions. It was just what I needed. 

I had ruined everyone's day. Professor was deeply hurt and Bubbles just cried and cried. Buttercup had to be restrained twice from coming upstairs to start a fight with me. Professor managed to calm them down enough to take them out, with all of my presents, to visit a few hospitals around Townsville. The Girls felt good about that, they didn't want them; and I'd already enjoyed them once (though THEY didn't know that). I was told not to leave my room. It gave me time to think.

I couldn't begin to understand how or why, but I had gotten the best Christmas gift anyone could receive: I had my life back. This was all too real to be a flashback. I had been given a second chance, and I swore to make the most of it. Ironically, I started out by breaking the rules and leaving my room. I went downstairs and whipped up the best Christmas dinner any of us had ever seen, cheating by using my powers to speed things up. Everything was cooking along nicely, timed for about when I thought they might be back. I left them a note by the front door, along with a bar of soap. 

"I'm really sorry, guys. I hope you can forgive me. Professor, the soap is for me if you think I need it. Love, Blossom"

Then I went back to my room to think some more. I didn't get very far; I heard them pulling into the driveway. I expected some sort of punishment but I was just so happy I was no longer dead and I had my family back that I didn't care. I deserved whatever it was, anyway. I sat on the bed, waiting, and I heard Professor coming up the stairs. He knocked on the door and came in; the soap was in his hand. He walked over and stood right in front of me. 

"Hold out your tongue."

I did and he touched the bar to it quickly. I barely tasted it. He handed it to me and told me to put it back where I got it. Then he said "I'm going to have to punish you for leaving your room when I told you not to."

"I know."

"Well, since you saw fit to disobey me, you can just spend the rest of the day downstairs, with us."

His shirt was so soaked from my tears of joy that he had to change it.

  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


THREE

  


Professor never questioned me about that Christmas morning outburst. I don't think I could have explained it, and to be honest, I didn't care what had happened. I was alive, that's all that mattered. I was getting what everyone wanted, a chance to do it all over.

And, Dear Diary, I really and truly believed that my second chance might make a difference in the world. I knew I'd never be able to remember EVERYTHING I did or saw during my first shot at life, but I was sure about the big stuff. I mean, we had fought so many two-bit crooks and monsters; when we went out on those calls, I trusted my training and instinct instead of my memory. But, there were things, with my knowledge of what was to come, that I knew I could have an effect on. I tried to change for the better what I could, knowing there would be other things that were controlled by fate, destiny, whatever. I won't bother with all of it, just the ones that seemed most important. 

The Rowdyruffs were still created, but I knew exactly what to do. Mojo couldn't believe how easily we beat them, and he wasn't the same after that. I think he just kind of gave up. Bubbles getting bonked on the head, thinking she was him; Mojo giving superpowers to our classmates and Princess, showing up at our slumber party-none of it ever happened. 

I talked Buttercup into bringing her pea-shooter and some pins to Bonsai Gardens Park. She thought I was nuts, but when that fish-balloon showed up, she knew just what to do. Professor never made that stupid battle robot.

That Friday after school, when we raced so fast we ended up in that horrible future, facing Him? I couldn't remember what day that happened, but that morning, when Professor told us about the trip, I knew that was it. When school was over, as soon as Buttercup started bragging about how fast she could fly, I held Bubbles back, and pretty soon Buttercup lost interest. We went to the Bahamas that weekend, like we should have the first time, and guess what? Townsville was still there when we got back.

Not long after that, our lives had changed so much that I no longer knew what was going to happen. Lots of stuff that happened in my first life never did. My sisters didn't butcher my hair. When Bubbles had trouble with her eyes, instead of laughing at her, I asked Professor to see if laser surgery wouldn't be better for her than glasses. We never set foot in Citysville. I had changed the course of history, at least our little slice of it in Townsville. Life became nearly perfect. I know I was changed. I quit trying to be a dictator with Buttercup and Bubbles and treated them as equals. It was unreal, the transformation in them. Either of them could design and execute a battle plan as well as I could, in fact, Buttercup was downright brilliant at times, improving on some of my ideas in ways I never dreamed of.

But the biggest change in our lives happened in late spring of '99. We talked about it for awhile, and finally got up the nerve to go see Professor about it. It went something like this:

Bubbles: Professor, don't you ever want to get married?

Professor: Well, um, er...gee, Girls, it's almost time for Puppet Pals!

Buttercup: Forget them! Look, Professor, we know you've had problems with girls before, but we hate seeing you so lonely all the time!

Me: We know someone who's lonely too. You should ask her out!

Professor (not too crazy about the idea): Who, Blossom?

All of us: Our teacher, Ms. Keane! 

Professor: Uh, she seems nice, but she'd never go out with me.

Buttercup: Baloney! Quit being so down on yourself all the time!

Bubbles: Yeah, Professor. She's nice, so she hasta' like you, cause if she didn't she wouldn't be nice and she is, so she's gonna like you!

Buttercup: Thanks, Bubbles. I miss Mojo too, sort of.

Me: Professor, all you gotta do is call her and say you want to meet with her to discuss our schoolwork. Say you want all five of us to sit down together and ask her to come over for dinner. Then, when she gets here, we'll have to leave *wink wink* to go fight crime or something!

Buttercup: Great idea, Blossom! Hey, we can goof off in school, that way she'll WANT to talk to ya'!

Professor: No, Buttercup, there will be no 'goofing off' in school. All right, Girls, I'll call her. What harm could it do?

  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


FOUR

  


They got married in December, three weeks before Christmas. It was the happiest day of our lives. It was hard getting used to calling our new stepmother Mom instead of Ms. Keane, but we did. She was always a wonderful teacher, but she made an even better mother; it was like she was MADE for us. We were sailing through first grade and loving every minute of our six-year-old lives. Things were so great that I hardly ever thought back to my first life anymore, and when I did it seemed like a dream. Just when I thought my life couldn't get any more perfect, it did. In June, we had a special dinner to celebrate the anniversary of the night of our parents' first 'date'. They had known for weeks but waited until the party to spring it on us: we were going to have a baby brother!

He would be born in December, and we could hardly wait. 

Summer was flying by, it was August already and we would be starting second grade in a few weeks. There hadn't even been that much crime lately, which didn't bother me at all. Even Buttercup liked it; a few times she griped when the hotline rang because it took us away from our fun. So it came as a complete shock when, on that gorgeous early Saturday afternoon the hotline rang and Mayor informed us that our old enemy, Mojo Jojo, was back with a vengeance.

To be honest, Dear Diary, we were a bit rusty and we hadn't kept up with our old training regimen. That was my fault, too; as leader, it was my responsibility to see that we stayed in top form. We hadn't seen anything like this before and we weren't prepared. Mojo's Robo-Jojo had doubled in size and apparent strength. It stood lower to the ground and much wider than his earlier version, and looked like it could take anything we could throw at it. Mojo had obviously changed his tactics, too, having plenty of time to plan his revenge. He usually announced his presence loudly, smashing buildings and figuratively beating his chest with his rants on taking over the world. He was so predictable, really.

Not this time. He had quietly and quickly gone straight for Townsville's jugular and sliced it: the water treatment and pumping station was a smoking ruin. We tracked him down just as he was going for the fatal blow to the heart, the power plant. He saw us coming and fired off a few laser blasts, which were a lot stronger than anything he used to have. Bubbles was knocked off balance but she quickly recovered and I ordered a scrambled formation, one that appeared to be random movement but was actually carefully choreographed. It was one of the few things we'd worked on with any enthusiasm, and it should have taken Mojo's computer at least a minute to solve the pattern and lock in on us. Less than twenty seconds later, we were crawling out from craters in the street. During our short attack, our eye and hand beams bounced harmlessly off the robot. Ignoring us, Mojo unleashed a huge auger from beneath the robot. It drilled far below ground and the whole area shook. We tried to clear our heads, and watched as the auger retracted, and a giant claw went down into the hole. It came back out holding the main cable that fed the whole city. The cable was at least ten feet thick; I was sure there were actually dozens of smaller ones inside and the thing probably carried billions of volts. 

Townsville's blood had been drained and now its heartbeat stopped. The claw suddenly closed on the cable, ripping it apart. A massive blue spark shot out and everything went dead. Even though it was the middle of the day, that spark could have been seen for miles.

"What now, Blossom?" Bubbles shouted.

"He's got too much armor!" I shouted back. "Remember how we used to trip up his robots and just push them over? Look at the center of gravity on that thing! I don't think we can do it to this one, but it's all I've got!"

Buttercup called out "I've got something, Blossom, but we need your idea to set it up! See the power still coming out of that cable?"

The huge cable, at least the end that ran inside the power plant, was whipping around like a snake, spitting electric venom. In the darkness and confusion inside the plant, the coal-fired turbines were still churning out electricity and no one had thrown the switch to cut off the juice. The other end of the cable was as dead as the rest of the city. 

"I'm gonna go see if I can find some water. But it'll only work if we can get Mojo to open up. Let's all hit together, then I'm outta here!"

She was right, and I was impressed. Tightly sealed, the robot was too tough for even a massive jolt of electricity, but if we could get Mojo to open that bubble a crack...I suddenly had an idea.

"Gotcha, Buttercup! Bubbles, follow my lead! Now!"

We blasted into the side of the thing, but it only wobbled a bit. Mojo spun the robot around and one of its arms knocked us aside. We allowed ourselves to tumble head over heels, landing behind some buildings, out of his sight.

Buttercup said "Okay, guys, get him to open up, I'll take care of the rest!" and she was gone.

"C'mon, Bubbles, let's go make that monkey pay for 'killing' our sister!"

Bubbles understood what I meant and grinned back at me. Dear Diary, I didn't know it at the time, but my sense of irony was the only thing that worked for me that day.

We confused Mojo by floating up to the thick plastic cockpit instead of rushing it, and he reacted by doing nothing but watch us. We looked as angry as possible and started pounding our fists on the bubble, yelling for him to come out of there. The act of futility made him laugh, and the cockpit started to open.

"Crank up your hearing, Bubbles, we need to be ready!" I told her.

When the cockpit stopped moving, we took half swings at his head. We expected there to be a force field in place and there was.

"Come out of there, you murderer!" I screamed at him, pounding the force field harder.

"Muahahahaha! It seems that you are now as powerless as your pathetic city. Speaking of pathetic, where is your weakling sister?"

"She's dead!" Bubbles shrieked. "You killed her!"

We both intensified our pounding, and Mojo had forgotten all about his plans, gloating at our 'tragedy'. His ego was always his worst enemy. We were a lot alike.

"And you shall join her! They say revenge is a dish best served cold, and mine has been chilling forever. But your lifeless bodies will soon be colder yet!"

He shook his fists at us in glee. I could faintly hear Buttercup returning; Bubbles heard her, too. We split. Mojo barely had time to look up and say "Uh, oh". Buttercup had grabbed an empty coal car from a train yard and filled it up, either at the lake in Bonsai Gardens Park or the reservoir, and she threw the whole thing at the robot and sped away. The force of contact rocked it slightly, in the direction of the electricity-spitting cable. The water made contact with the robot and the cable and a huge bolt of power, looking for a ground, zapped the robot. With the cockpit open, the surge shorted out its circuits. It exploded, blowing Mojo high into the sky, and Bubbles went after him. I took off in search of Buttercup, and heard her call out to me.

"Blossom! Look out!"

The force of the explosion had ripped a section of the dead end of the cable out of the ground and it was flying toward me. I tried to swerve, but the stiff strands of steel wire sticking out from the center of one end caught me in the back and impaled me on them. I don't know if it carried me on down to the ground. I don't know what became of Mojo. I didn't know anything. 

There was no feeling of 'slow motion' this time, no sense I was dying, no sisters tearfully saying goodbye. Not even time for me to think "No, not again." It was "Th-that's all, folks." Lights out.

Do you know when it happened, Dear Diary? That's right, August 19, 2000. I'd bet my last dime it was 1:17, too.

  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


FIVE

  


Well, Dear Diary, this time I knew I was dead. In fact, I had been dead all along and that whole 'reliving my life' thing had just been a crazy thought that was compressed into a few seconds. It was meant to show me what Heaven could be like, everything wonderful and perfect. Now, I was about to find out what Hell was. That's where I found myself.

I was standing in a very warm place, staring at the personification of evil. HIM! Only something was very wrong. Why were my sisters standing right next to me and why was Him prancing around his lair in that god-awful workout suit?

We'd been there, done that. Was it happening again? I felt that same churning in the pit of my stomach that I felt on my repeat of Christmas morning.

"Well, hello Girls! What a pleasant surprise!" Him said in that creepy voice of his. Just like the first time.

I answered him, weakly at first, but I had to get through this.

"Uh, I'll be with you in a sec. Girls, it's a false alarm. Buttercup, remember that time you fell in love with Ace and Grubber set us up by impersonating you? Get to the Mayor's office, the Gangreen Gang is using the hotline to make crank calls!"

Him stopped his prancing, and they all stood there staring at me. 

"Fell in love?" Buttercup shouted. "You take that back!"

"Never mind that now, move!" I yelled. "I'll be along in a minute. Go!"

They finally left. I turned to Him. "All right, you bastard, I know what you're doing! Just let me die and leave me alone!"

"Why, Blossom, that's the nicest thing you've ever called me! But whatever are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about! I got killed fighting a monster and you made me relive my life to show me how perfect things could have been if I'd been different! Now you're doing it again! Stop torturing me!"

He sat down on his couch, looking confused.

"My dear girl, I think you've lost your mind! I suppose I should be happy about that, but don't you think that if you were really dead I'd be the last one to mess with it?"

"No!" I screamed. "You'd be so upset you weren't the one to destroy me, you'd get even with me after I was dead!"

"Hmmmm, good point." he said, stroking his chin. "That's a brilliantly diabolical scheme! Unfortunately, I don't quite have THAT kind of power. Now get out of here, will you? You've just ruined my whole day!"

"B-But-" I stammered. He seemed very depressed all of a sudden.

"Get out!" he screamed in his dark voice, pointing with a claw. "Go fight crime or bake cookies or whatever it is you little brats do!" 

He disappeared toward the rear of his lair, calling out in his girlie voice for his rubber duck. I shook my head in disbelief, then went to find my sisters.

When I got to Mayor's office, they had the Gang collared. Buttercup was steamed.

"What took you so long?"

"I had to apologize to Him for busting in like that. Speaking of apologies...Girls, take these other clowns to jail. Ace, you're coming with me!"

He started to sweat. "Uh, gee, Blossom, 'dat ain't necessary! We're sorry, right guys?"

"Si! So sorry!"

"Duh, right, Ace!"

"S-s-s-s-s-s!"

"Phbbbbbbbtt!"

"Well, goody for you!" I said, sarcastically. "Your fearless leader can tell Fuzzy and Mojo that himself!"

The calendar on the wall of Mayor's office told me that it was March 18th, 1999. 

  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


SIX

  


Instead of being grateful that I had somehow been given a third chance, I did the opposite. I went into a deep depression and did many things that I'm ashamed of. I demanded my own room. Bubbles was terribly hurt by that and wouldn't talk to me for a week. I couldn't have cared less. I criticized her and Buttercup for the tiniest little things and I was disrespectful to Professor and just about everybody, basically. I hated school and refused to go. Ms. Keane wasn't our teacher anymore, but I still saw her every day; and I couldn't bear seeing the woman who I had loved as my Mom stand and stare at me, shaking her head sadly at my 'attitude'. Several monster fights went badly and some crooks got away with their crimes, due to my own arrogance and the tensions between us. I knew my sisters, and Townsville, would be better off without me. I quit the Powerpuff Girls. 

I needed answers and there was nobody who could give them to me. Professor would come into my room and try to find out what my problem was, but I wouldn't, I couldn't tell him. He was very patient and understanding, but I wouldn't let him in. All the truth would tell him is that I had gone insane. In fact, I did have to go see a child psychologist. I sat there, for three whole sessions, not saying a word. I just made faces at the doctor. On the last visit, I wet my pants on purpose, all over his nice expensive leather couch. I guess you could say I was acting out. 

I lost interest in everything, and spent practically all my time in my room, crying myself to sleep every night. I mourned the loss of my mother and my baby brother, who I never even got the chance to meet. They never existed to anyone in this world but they were real, and now they were gone forever. Who would understand THAT? The only person who knew the events of my second life was me. I couldn't see the point in going through this charade of life all over again, only to have everything I cherished torn from me one more time. If it happened twice, it might happen again. I felt so alone that I believed being alone was the only answer. I gathered together a few things and then sat down to write a letter. 

I must have stopped and started a dozen times, leaving a pile of crumpled pages in the wastebasket along with a mound of wet tissues. I could barely see the paper through my tears as I tried again.

To My Dear Family

I am so sorry for everything I've put you through and I have to make it stop. Something terrible is happening to me and you wouldn't understand even if I could find a way to explain it. The only thing is for me to leave, to be alone until I can find my own answers. Please don't try to look for me. If you do, I will only run, and keep running until I find peace.

Please believe me when I say I never meant to hurt you. I would never do this unless I had to and I promise that when I find what I'm looking for I will come home. If I never see you again in this life, please know that I love you more than anything in the world. Funny way of showing it, huh? It's just that no one can help me. I have to do this alone. 

P.S. To my sisters: You can and you must go on without me. The world needs you.

Blossom

Duh, like they needed ME to tell them that. They'd already been doing it for over a month. And I prayed they were still doing it in the two worlds I'd left behind.

I waited until night when they were all asleep. I picked up my few possessions, which were a couple changes of clothes, an earlier version of you, Dear Diary; a box of pencils, a small solar powered flashlight and what little allowance money I had saved. It wasn't much and I knew I would have to live by my wits. I wasn't scared at all, like I should have been if I had any sense; my mind was on only one thing. I went to my jewelry box and got my necklace with the locket on it. Inside was a miniature portrait of all of us, smiling. I put it around my neck and swore never to take it off. Then I placed the folded letter on my neatly made bed, took one last look around my home, peeked in through my tears at my sleeping sisters and Professor, and quietly began my quest.

  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


SEVEN

  


When you have superpowers, avoiding attention isn't the easiest thing to do. The best way is to go where there aren't any people, or avoid using your abilities where there are.

I didn't know if my family ever came looking for me, but word would have certainly gotten out of my disappearance. And I couldn't change the way I looked; even if someone had never heard of us I was going to stick out. So I went to only the remotest places on earth, where I could have some solitude without a serious risk of being discovered.

Surviving in the wild was easier than I thought it would be. I watched animals eat certain fruits and berries and avoid others. I could easily catch and cook all the fish I wanted. When I couldn't find clean water, boiling it with my eye beams made it drinkable. Doing these things without being noticed was much more difficult.

It was the middle of June and I'd been gone for six weeks. It had taken longer than I hoped to find that perfect spot to work on my 'problem'. I had finally found it and I'd been there a week. An isolated cave in the Himalayas, out of the wind and far above the range of most wildlife. At one time, mountain climbers or native Tibetans may have used it for shelter, but I thought that it hadn't seen a human in years. A few quick flights down to the mountain's tree line and I had all the firewood I needed. Farther down, the streams were full of fish and I had plenty of dried fruit from my week in the Amazon rainforest.

No, survival was easy. But I hadn't a clue to my situation. I tried to reason with myself. I had died twice, only to come back to life. Each time at a particular point, though I had lost over two months the second time. First, late December, then mid March. Did that mean anything?

I knew now this wasn't just an at-death's-door dream. The chill of the air, the smell of the woodsmoke. I stuck my hand in the flames and quickly pulled it out. No, it was all too real. But, how could this be happening? Though it was right up his alley, Him swore he wasn't behind it. I believed it, because his ego was bigger than Mojo's or mine and he would have waved a triumph like this under everyone's noses.

We didn't go to church and religion was something that we were never exposed to in our house. It was something I'd wondered about but was too afraid to discuss with Professor. I'm sure my sisters thought about it, too; but we never discussed it, either. I think we didn't WANT to know the answer. But I forced myself to think about it now. We were created artificially. Had Professor avoided the subject because he had taken what was supposed to be left to God? Was God now having His revenge against us for it, through me? 

No, I refused to believe that. I figured that if Professor was made in God's image and then created us using knowledge and talent that were God-given, that we were OK in God's eyes. From what little I knew, God, whatever He was, was supposed to be a loving, forgiving God and would never do something like this. No, someone or something else was responsible. And just because God wasn't behind it didn't mean He'd automatically step in to save me from it.

I tried to imagine what life was like for those I'd left behind. For those I'd left behind. Wait a minute! I had died twice, and each time I had left my sisters to cry over my lifeless body. They and Professor and the rest of the world had simply continued on without me, unaware that I was living in some other place and time. How were they dealing with it? What were their lives like now? Those were two separate and distinct worlds yet I knew them both. Did one have any awareness of the other? 

Suddenly, this wasn't just about me anymore. Yes, it had happened to me, but it was much bigger than just me. In spite of knowing the how, the why was unfathomable. Were there really multiple parallel universes? Was I going to die in every single one of them? On August 19th, 2000 at 1:17 on a beautiful Saturday afternoon? Had I already died a hundred, a million times?

No, that was crazy. If I knew about two of them, I should have known them all. Unless it was just beginning. Where and when would it end? I felt overwhelmed by the whole thing, understanding only that I wanted it to stop. I couldn't bear the thought of my loved ones having to endure that pain one more time. I wanted it to end for myself, too. If it was my fate for my life to be over at such a young age, I wanted it to be OVER. As in DONE. Not over, and over, and over...

It hit me with the force of a slap. I had to be living under a curse, placed by a being far more powerful than Him. It was the only thing that made sense to me. But curses could be broken, and I knew how! I either had to die before my appointed time or live past it. I could only control the time of my death before that August day by killing myself. That would break the curse but I would be dead for good. It seemed rather pointless. But by making sure I avoided any sort of danger on that day, I would live until some unknown time in the future and the curse would also be broken. That was definitely the better option, but I swore to whoever might be listening that if it failed, and I began this repeating cycle again, I WOULD take my fate in my own hands and end it all, forever.

That day was fourteen months away. I resolved at that moment to live my life as fully as I could, to be the best person I could be. Until the 19th of August, 2000, when I would take a day off.

I stood and put the fire out with my ice breath. I would return home to my family and beg for forgiveness. I vowed to not rejoin the Powerpuff Girls until I proved I was worthy. I removed what traces I could that I'd ever been in that cave, and headed home, for my beloved Townsville.

  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


EIGHT

  


My sisters and Professor had tried to find me and I took no pleasure from the fact that they didn't. They never asked questions, I guess they just took my return to mean that I'd found what I was looking for. I hadn't, really, but I had made peace with myself, sort of; and I was glad to not have to talk about it. They forgave me, I guess they were just happy to have me back; but I refused to take things for granted. There was a role reversal of sorts. I told Buttercup I would never again lead them, that I had proved I didn't deserve it. I spent countless hours in the Danger Room, toughening up. I cut my hair short and never wore a hair bow again. 

This didn't mean my sister was any less tough. Oh, no, not at all. But, just like the last time, she proved herself to be every bit the leader that I'd ever been. With my absence, Bubbles had also grown and as a result, the Powerpuff Girls were not to be messed with. Not that we'd ever taken kindly to being messed with. Just like before, crime dried up and life in Townsville got much better. My problem was I couldn't seem to enjoy it this time. I think it was my sense of what I knew was coming. I dreaded the arrival of August but at the same time I couldn't wait for it to be over. In spite of my vow to be the best I could be, I was failing. I began to experience wild mood swings and Professor feared I was headed toward another breakdown. Maybe I was, but I felt that if I was around to see the sun come up on the 20th, everything would be fine.

I tried to get my inner tensions back under control as the first week of August approached. School was still over a month away, but Bubbles was so excited about starting second grade that all she could talk about was, would we get Ms. Keane again. I winced, remembering the mother they had never known. My baby brother. If life had really gone on without me in that other world, he'd be a year old already. What was his name? What did he look like? It hurt so much that I wished I still had my own separate room so I could go cry in private. 

I finally won my internal struggle. My nervousness disappeared and I felt I had my life back under control. I knew nothing was going to happen to me because I had it all figured out. I would get up that morning, the 19th, and fake an injury so if the hotline rang, I'd have an excuse to not go. And that's just what I did. 

"No sweat, Blossom, we can handle it." Buttercup said. 

"Thanks, guys. I think I'll just take it easy today. I should be fine tomorrow." I knew now there would be one.

Professor told me to stay home and rest my 'bad ankle' while they went to Malph's, like every Saturday morning. While they were gone, I daydreamed of how I was going to live the rest of my life. I could finally make some REAL plans for my future. I stared at the hotline, daring it to ring; knowing it wouldn't. I couldn't remember exactly when we'd gotten the call for that porcupine monster, that had been two lives and a total of over three years ago in time since I had been killed by it. And then, it had been that stupid cable. But when one o'clock came and went without a call, I knew I was right. It felt so good knowing I was about to beat this curse!

I kept my eyes on the clock. It was 1:15, I was nearly home free. I heard Professor coming in. He had a sack of groceries in his arms. 

"Professor! Where're the Girls?"

He set the bag down. 1:16

"Oh, Blossom! We saw Mayor at the store and he got a call about some porcupine thing. They went to fight it."

So, it had happened after all! With a huge sense of relief, I jumped into his arms. He put me down, with a smile.

"Oh, ho! I see your ankle made a miraculous recovery! What was that all about? Blossom? BLOSSOM!"

Something slammed into my chest and I couldn't breathe. I was on the floor on my side, looking at Professor's legs but not seeing them, my eyes already losing focus. What the hell, six year-olds don't have heart attacks?! It was happening again! 

I screamed "Damn you! What ARE you and why are you DOING this to me?!!!"

I'm sure Professor didn't hear a word of it as he frantically gave me CPR, looking down into my dead eyes.

  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


NINE

  


Dear Diary, I dread what I'm about to tell you. I pray to God that no one ever sees any of this, but I have to get it out of me or I'll lose my mind, I've been living with the guilt for so long.

I found myself with tears pouring from my eyes. I was standing in the kitchen, cutting up an onion with a large, very sharp knife. I became aware of my surroundings, which was strange in itself; this was now the third time and I still wasn't used to it. Buttercup was doing something at the table and Bubbles was with Professor as they both walked into the room. My rage, which began the moment my body hit the living room floor, was building to a peak.

Professor frowned at me and said, "Blossom, how many times have I told you to do that under running water so you won't cry?"

I blew up. As my anger boiled over, I remembered my promise to myself. I refused to take any more. A tremendous shriek came out of my throat and I slashed my left wrist with the blade. I didn't feel a thing, but a geyser of blood spurted to the ceiling. I could hear their cries of shock as they all came toward me, but before they could stop me, I buried the knife in my chest as far as it would go. It must have come out through my back because I could feel it hit something. It had to have gotten stuck in a cabinet, because I had to pull with all my strength to free the blade for the next blow. But why wasn't I collapsing? I felt only a slight weakness. I must have missed my heart completely. I tried again.

Buttercup had grabbed my wrist and was trying to pry the knife away. Professor was trying to make a tourniquet out of a dishtowel to stop the flow from my left wrist. Bubbles was trying to pin me against the cabinets to stop my squirming. My anger hadn't subsided a bit.

"No! Leave me alone, please! I want to die!"

I jerked to the left, throwing Buttercup off balance and she flew over my right shoulder and hit the wall behind me. The knife clattered to the floor and I dove for it. That's all I remember.

  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


TEN

  


When I came to, I tried to get my bearings. I instantly knew my attempt at suicide had been wasted. Oh, it worked, all right. I died again but it no longer mattered what the day was. Dying before August didn't help at all. I was doomed to suffer this curse until whatever demon had placed it was finished with me. I was just trying to figure out at what point in my past I had been dropped, only to have to cope with living until I died yet again. 

Something wasn't right. I was chained to a hospital bed, barely able to move my arms and legs. We did have a setup like this at home, in the lab, but I worried because even though it was such a long time ago, I couldn't EVER remember being chained to a hospital bed, period. 

What worried me even more were the four police officers surrounding the bed. They were all holding rifles and three of them looked like they couldn't wait to use them. The fourth just looked sad. I thought he looked familiar but I didn't know his name. I KNEW nothing like this had ever happened before and I was scared. 

"Professor? Where's the Professor?! Where're my sisters?!!"

"Hey, she's awake!" The officer who said that left the room.

"Jesus, she doesn't know!" one of the other cops said. The sad one looked like he was going to cry.

"Doesn't know what? What's going on?" I yelled. "Girls? Professor?!" I was terrified. I pulled at my bindings and stopped immediately. The pain in my chest and left wrist told me to.

The cop who left came back in with a man who I guessed to be another cop; probably a detective since he wasn't in uniform. I didn't recognize him either; and when he flashed a badge at me, I couldn't catch his name.

"Blossom Utonium? I'm placing you under arrest for the murders of Professor Utonium, Buttercup and Bubbles Utonium. You have the right...

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

  
  


* * *

  
  


It was true, Dear Diary. My family was dead and I was the one who killed them. I kept telling myself no but the TV and the papers and the cops and the lawyers and the judges and the looks of hate and the looks of sadness and all the others who just shook their heads kept telling me yes, Blossom Utonium, YOU are a murderer, YOU did this horrible thing, not Mojo Jojo, not Him, YOU, YOU, YOU!!!

I laid in that bed, numb, not really listening to what my court-appointed attorney or anyone else said. All I could think of was what I had done. How could I DO that to them? Dear Diary, why did they try to stop me? Dumb question, I know why. I'd have tried to stop it, too, if it was one of them. I only wish that they'd left me alone. Whatever it was that placed this curse had sure gotten its money's worth. 

I prayed that my sisters and Professor would somehow be able to forgive me, and I knew that when this wretched life of mine ended once more, I would see them again, alive and unaware that they had been butchered by the person they were trying to save. Knowing that fact didn't erase the knowledge that I would never forgive myself. I was thankful for one thing, that I had no memory of the horror that must have been on their faces when they died. I cried until there were no tears left in me, only hate and anger; most of it reserved for myself. I never cried again.

  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


ELEVEN

  


They wouldn't let me go to the funerals. By the time I was well enough to be transferred to maximum security, the numbness was gone and I was ready to make this stinking world pay for what had been done to us. I would find some way to escape, and then I could attack and destroy and nothing was going to stop me. What difference would it make, when my life ended and then started up again, none of it would have happened anyway. Then I remembered that day of realization in the cave. Yes, it WOULD have happened anyway. THIS world would still go on after I had left it and would continue to suffer from whatever I might do. I couldn't do any more harm to it. I'd done enough already. It wasn't the fault of any of these people. I knew what had to be done.

On the morning of my arraignment, the judge sat, looking sternly at me. 

"Mr. Prosecutor, read the charges."

The district attorney was handling this one himself. Careers were built on cases like this.

"The defendant Blossom Utonium is charged with three counts of murder in the first degree."

The courtroom was packed and I heard a huge gasp. I looked at my lawyer, a young woman from the public defender's office. She signaled me to be patient with a touch of her hand.

The DA continued "The People are seeking the death penalty in this case, your honor."

The room exploded. Reporters jabbered into microphones, my lawyer was on her feet, screaming at the DA and the judge, everyone else was saying something to no one in particular, and the judge was slamming his gavel down. Not a single one of them noticed the smile on my face. 

Things got quieted down a bit. My lawyer was still on her feet.

"Your honor, she's a CHILD!"

"An extremely dangerous, vicious one, your honor." countered the DA.

"Fry 'er! Then we'll be rid of all of 'em!" someone yelled from the back.

"I always knew those freaks would turn on us someday!" another shouted. 

I wondered if my horrible crime had shocked Townsville into these feelings, or if some people really felt that way about us in all of my lives. I prayed it was the first.

"One more outburst like that, and I'll clear this courtroom!" the judge threatened. He addressed my lawyer. "Now, Ms. Cahill, we'll argue the merits of the People's request later. For now, how does your client plead?"

She never got the chance. I was shackled and couldn't move, but my voice was strong. 

"Guilty, your honor."

He had to pound repeatedly to shut everybody up. My lawyer looked at me, horrified. She turned back to the judge.

"Your honor, my client pleads not guilty!"

"But your honor, I did it!" I complained.

He looked right at me. "Young lady, a plea of not guilty is automatic in cases like this. I suggest you listen to your attorney."

"Do I have to?"

"No, you do not have to, but I would advise it."

My mind was made up. I looked at my furious, confused attorney.

"Ms. Cahill, I appreciate that you're trying to help me, but...you're fired!"

More shouting and gavel slamming. The judge was very annoyed with me at that moment. "Very well. The court will appoint a new attorney for the defendant forthwith. Court is in recess."

"Wait!" I shouted. "Court is NOT in recess! I don't WANT another lawyer!"

Everyone was staring at me now. "I intend to represent myself in this case!"

"Denied!"

"With all due respect, judge, SHUT UP!"

He was too stunned to give the order to have me removed. His jaw dropped and I had my chance.

"I plead guilty to the charges. I have no objection to the death sentence. I WANT to die!"

"Ms. Cahill, I'm re-appointing you as counsel of record. I want a psychiatric evaluation of your client YESTERDAY!"

He must have forgotten the one they'd already given me, which I had passed only because I made sure to not say anything about what had been happening to me. I knew what I was doing.

"Not so fast, judge! I was TRYING to kill MYSELF and THEY tried to STOP me! So I killed them. I meant to do it!"

It wasn't true, but lying at this point didn't matter. I needed to have my way.

He'd had enough. "Very well, if you insist, your plea is accepted!"

My new attorney objected so I fired her, again. The DA spoke up.

"The People restate their request for the death penalty, your honor."

I cut the judge off before he could say a word. "I restate my request for the death penalty, and if you don't give it to me, I swear I'll escape and I'll destroy this city!"

Except, Dear Diary, I said that very bad word again. And this time, nobody had any soap. Now, the last thing this judge liked was being made a fool in his own court. He started to give the order and I cut him off again.

"Let me save you some time, judge. I can tell you the day I'm going to die, right down to the minute!"

That did it. His face turned bright red.

"Bailiff! Give Miss Smartass a piece of paper and tell her to write it down!" (Yes, Dear Diary, he really did say that.)

He figured I knew that the condemned sat on death row for years, sitting through appeal after appeal. I guessed he would write down some ridiculously impossible date, like next week. It didn't matter what he wrote, I knew for certain when death would come for me again. Suicide attempts were a waste of time. I watched the judge's angry face as he scratched out the date. I handed the paper back to the bailiff and he took the judge's, too.

"Well?" the judge said. The bailiff looked at the sheets and turned white.

"Th-they're the same!"

I never saw a room empty faster. 

  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


TWELVE

  


Now you might ask, Dear Diary, if I knew all along when I was going to die, and by now you know I did; what was the point of that whole charade in court? Why insist on being sentenced to death when it didn't matter what the courts did with me? Well, I'll tell you, I did it for two reasons. First, I wanted to have control over something. I did that for my own ego; yes, after all I'd been through, I still had it. But the most important thing to me was I wanted justice. Justice for Buttercup, for Bubbles, for Professor. It was the only thing I could do for them. They were gone from this world and soon I would be, too. I could have given the 'not guilty' plea, sat through the trial, and accepted whatever prison term I got, knowing they would never give a child the death penalty. But by insisting on it, it was now on record that no matter who you were, even a superhero that was once loved by everyone, if you committed the ultimate crime, you paid the ultimate price. 

What about the coincidence of the judge picking the exact date and time? That was Fate, laughing at me, mocking me, telling me that I had control over nothing.

Like I told you, Dear Diary, I never cried another tear. I was done crying for myself; self-pity hadn't ever done me any good. I had done all I could for my family, and I hoped I would see them again. What if I had just sentenced them to the same fate I was suffering? To have died before your time, to be restored to living only to die, again and again, full of questions with no answers. If they were, at least they were in it together. I prayed that wasn't the case, that in whatever afterlife existed for them, they were at peace. Then, I realized that when I came back to life again, I would instantly have the answer to that question. Since they had died before me, if they were there, then their deaths were just a one-time thing, something that happened only in this world. That was awful enough, but at least they wouldn't have to go through this torture. If they weren't there...it was too terrible to even think about and I pushed it out of my mind.

It had been early June 1999 when I came back this time; June the 8th, to be exact. The same exact day Professor and my long lost mother had their first date. How terribly ironic, to have helped create a family and to have single-handedly destroyed it, all on the same day.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It was August and I had a year to wait and think. I was the only female on Death Row, as well as the only child, so I was kept away from the other prisoners. I also had the ability to break out any time I wanted, though I had no intention of doing that. So they had to build a special cell with extra thick walls and titanium shackles that I couldn't get out of. But I was a model prisoner, and after a while, the guards cut me some slack, and I never betrayed their trust. I spent the time wondering how I would handle the reunion with Buttercup and Bubbles when I saw them again. What would be happening when I 'became aware' the next time? Would we be in school, stopping a bank robbery, bashing some monster or just home asleep in our bed? I hoped my joy at seeing their faces, alive again, would overcome my guilt. I missed them so much!

Another thing: Because of what I did, Townsville was left unprotected. What kind of terrible place was it going to become, thanks to me? Well, I soon found out. About a month after I was put on Death Row, that old fraud Major Man crawled out from whatever rock he'd been hiding under. But instead of soaking up the glory, which was all he ever cared about; he tearfully pleaded with the people for a second chance. And, judging from what little TV I got to see, and the newspapers; he made the best of it. He became to Townsville what we had been, and was humble about it. He became a true hero. I guess it was Fate's way of cleaning up my mess.

Nobody I knew, not Mayor, Ms. Bellum or any of my friends ever came to see me. If they had, I wouldn't have been able to look them in the face. From time to time though, some lawyers from the ACLU would show up, wanting to talk to me about the appeals they had filed on my behalf. I refused to see them, asking my guards to tell them nicely to get lost. I didn't want their help. Toward the end, I had one repeat visitor. A man came every day, and every day I turned him away. They told me he was a Very Important Person and I should talk to him because he wanted to help me. No one could help me, not some do-gooder or worse yet, some writer who wanted me to tell the world my 'story'. Through him, of course. Thanks, but no thanks. 

I wondered how it would happen. The appeals process had put my execution off for years; I would never see it. Another heart attack? Some inmate run amok stabbing me with a shiv made from a spoon? I knew by now that Fate, the curse, or whatever would handle it for me and I quit worrying about it. I even stopped paying attention to what day it was. Imagine my surprise when the guard woke me one morning.

"Blossom, today's the day."

"Today's the day, what? That I get clean sheets? Cereal without roaches? What?"

I was kidding and she knew it; I joked with her all the time. She didn't smile, she looked very unhappy and suddenly I knew.

"So soon? How?" Not that I really cared, I was curious more than anything.

"The governor put it on the fast track and your last appeal was denied. They want to make an example of you."

I'm sure they were dancing in the streets over that news. 

"Good to see someone in government's got some...er...backbone." I'd decided to watch my language from now on. "Is today the 19th?"

I knew it had to be, but I waited for her to nod yes. "I'm really sorry, Blossom. I never thought it would be this soon."

"It's OK" I smiled. "When?"

"The time you asked for."

I hadn't really asked for it, just wrote on that paper what I knew was the truth. This wasn't Fate. Someone was involved and I thought I knew who it was. Then again, it WAS Fate. This person just didn't know Fate was using him.

"Thanks for being nice to me." I told the guard. She nodded and left in a hurry. I felt bad for her. 

Another guard came later, saying I could have anything I wanted to eat. I passed. Finally, it was time. Two male guards came and walked me to a small room with tile on the walls and floor, and windows on three walls. One looked out onto the hallway. Standing there were the warden, chaplain and the technician who was about to kill me. The other two windows looked out into rooms, where the press and any members of the families of the condemned, or their victims, could witness the execution if they wanted to. Both of the rooms were empty. The media weren't allowed to cover it because of my age, and of course, you know why there was nobody else there. Inside the room was a stainless steel table shaped like a narrow bed, with leather straps. The chaplain, the tech and the guards walked me inside the room.

"I don't need those, I won't fight." I said, pointing at the straps.

"You will, you just won't know it." said the tech.

I laid down on the table and let myself be strapped in. The tech nodded and the guards left. I could see the warden and there was someone else standing next to him. It was the person I expected.

I said to the chaplain, "Would you ask him to come in here, please?"

He did, and the two men were standing next to me. I looked up at the newcomer and said "Hiya, judge. Thanks for coming."

"Hello, Blossom."

"Thank you for doing this for me. I know you're friends with the governor."

He looked down at me and I could see the pain in his eyes.

"Blossom, in all my years on the bench I've never seen anyone so intent on paying for their crimes as you. At first, I was very angry with you for making a mockery of my court. But the more I thought about it, I came to the conclusion that you weren't asking to die for any other reason than that you believed you had to be punished for what you did, without regard for why you did it."

There was no reason for me to tell him that I was going to die at 1:17 in the afternoon on the 19th of August in the year 2000 whether he had anything to do with it or not. I was just happy he understood about justice and accepting responsibility for one's actions.

"I'm glad you understand, your honor."

"Would you like to tell me now, why you did it?"

It was the one question everyone had always wanted answered. I never answered it beyond my lie in court and wasn't about to start now. I was satisfied that justice was served. I wasn't doing anything to undo that. To tell the real truth would make me appear insane, and insane people are often forgiven by society for their crimes. Society had no right to forgive me, only Bubbles, Buttercup and Professor could do that. I looked him right in the eyes.

"If I tell you, will it bring them back?"

I'll never know if he knew what I was thinking or if he thought I was just being smart with him again, but he sort of smiled.

"No, Blossom, it won't."

The chaplain looked at me and asked if I cared to pray with him.

"No, sir. I've said all there is to say."

He seemed surprised. "You're very sure of that, Blossom?"

"Yes, sir. I've asked Professor and my sisters to forgive me. Either they have or they haven't, it's out of my hands."

"As you wish." He said a brief silent prayer, then made a sign with his hand. "May God have mercy on your soul."

How could I explain that whatever was behind this wasn't ready to hand me over to God just yet? I thanked him and asked the technician if the chaplain and the judge could stay with me. The look on his face said it was against the rules, but I saw him glance out to where the warden was standing. The man nodded. I said a silent thank you and closed my eyes, trying to picture my loved ones' faces. I felt the needle go into my right arm, and my body jerked involuntarily as I felt a sharp pain; the lethal drug stopping my heart. My last conscious thought was of being at the amusement park, strapped into the car as the roller coaster started up one more time.

  
  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


THIRTEEN

  


Dear Diary, my question WAS answered instantly. My family was there, alive. I hadn't sentenced them to the endless cycle of dying and living. But my joy was short-lived. All my mental preparations for seeing them again were a waste of time. I freaked.

It was the Friday before Thanksgiving, 1999, November the 19th. We had just turned six years old the day before. We were all sitting in the living room watching 'Puppet Pals'. I was leaning against Professor and Buttercup was sitting to my right. Bubbles was at the other end of the couch and Professor had his arms around both of us. 

Of course, they had no idea what I had done to them; and I knew that but I couldn't stop myself. I just felt like I had to apologize and I threw my arms around Professor; then I jumped off the couch and bear hugged each of my sisters. Words were pouring out of me but I don't remember any of what I said and I'm sure I wasn't making any sense.

Buttercup didn't appreciate the sudden display of affection and she shoved me away.

"Get offa me, Blossom, I'm trying to watch TV! Geez, what is wrong with you?"

Bubbles just stared in confusion, but Professor quickly stood up, a worried expression on his face.

"Blossom, what is it? What's the matter?"

I was hovering between them and the TV and I must have looked awful, because they all came toward me. I suddenly felt soaked and when I looked down, I was horrified to see that I was covered with blood. When I looked up, Professor was reaching for me, oblivious to the fact that he was bleeding to death from the kitchen knife buried in his chest. Bubbles was floating toward me, blood pouring from a dozen wounds.

I backed up, trying to get away, squeezing my eyes shut. Some small part of my brain was telling me that it wasn't real, that I'd been spared seeing the horror of my crime when I did it, only to relive it now. It didn't do any good. When I opened my eyes I was met with the hideous sight of Buttercup's head, floating in mid air. Her body was still on the couch, blood squirting from her neck. 

"Geez, Blossom, you look like you seen a ghost! Blossom? Blossom!"

I don't remember anything more about that day.

  
  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


FOURTEEN

  


The doctor shook his head and said quietly "I'm sorry, Professor. There's been no progress."

They didn't think I could hear them but they forgot about my super-hearing. They were calling it a 'psychotic break with reality'. I'd been stuck in the children's psychiatric ward at Townsville General for a week, my wrists and ankles chained to the bed with titanium restraints. I could barely sit up in bed but that was about all. They sedated me for two days, so I don't remember a thing about them. When I came out of it, I knew what had happened. I was relieved to see my family again, unharmed. I now knew for sure that they had died only that one time and weren't 'reliving' too. But everyone thought I was nuts, so I had nothing to lose (or so I thought at the time). I spilled my guts, telling them everything. And the funny thing about it, Dear Diary, was that I remembered everything about my four lives and deaths. Before that, all of it was mixed together until I wasn't sure anymore what event happened in which life but now it all became crystal clear to me. It felt so good finally letting it all out.

Of course, they didn't believe me. Hearing myself tell it, it even sounded crazy to me. But I was getting frustrated at being a prisoner and just wanted to get out of there. I needed to get on with what little life I had coming this time; I only had nine months until the 19th of August rolled around again.

I decided the only way I could convince them that I was telling the truth was to prove it. I knew the future, or at least some of it. With all of them there in the room with me, including my doctors, I predicted Fuzzy Lumkins' rampage through downtown Townsville over some perceived threat to his property. It would happen on my 5th day in the hospital, the day before Thanksgiving, just like it always had.

"It's going to happen, guys, because it's happened four times already. Only the last time, Major Man stopped him because you were dead and I was on Death Row. You've gotta let me come with you!"

Buttercup usually spoke without thinking first. I guessed she had been warned not to use words like 'crazy' and 'whacko' around me, because she just threw her arms up and sputtered. Of course, I didn't get to go when the call came. The hotline had been installed in one of the two rooms next to mine; the Girls and Professor had been allowed to 'move in' until the doctors determined it was safe to let me out.

When my sisters got back, they floated into my room, staring at me, their eyes huge. I smiled at them.

"Hey, Buttercup! Didja whack Fuzzy over the head with 'Joe' again?"

She turned white. "H-how did you know that?!"

"I told you, I watched you do it three times already! Hey, Bubbles, how's Twitchy?"

Twitchy was the squirrel that told Bubbles what Fuzzy was up to. We never knew squirrels had names until that day. Bubbles flew screaming from my room.

My prediction had the opposite effect of what I wanted. The doctors mumbled something about 'a temporary increase in paranormal psychic abilities'. It made sense to Professor, but my sisters were afraid to even come near me, now. Some Thanksgiving. Instead of being home, stuffing themselves and having fun, they were here, eating crappy hospital food and staring at me, not knowing what to do. And it was all my fault. I felt guilt and shame all over again for what I was putting them through and I wished I'd just kept my big mouth shut. But, it was too late for that and now I was going to be spending the rest of this life chained to a bed in the looney bin. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


"No progress at all." the doctor repeated, shaking his head as I angrily stared at him. Professor looked as miserable as I felt.

Suddenly, this doctor and Professor were interrupted by the intrusion of a nurse and two men, both of whom were wearing dark suits and sunglasses. They looked like FBI guys.

The nurse stammered "I-I'm sorry, Doctor, I tried to tell them..."

The doctor said, "It's all right, Kathy. You can go."

After she left, Professor cut loose on them.

"The last thing she needs is you feds pushing her! Now, get out!"

The doctor was just as angry. "Gentlemen, she is to have NO visitors, I don't care WHO you are!"

Without bothering to even look at them, or me, the two men made a quick search of the room and returned to the door. I stuck my tongue out at them.

"I'm not talkin' to you guys."

The taller of the two men said, "We aren't here for a visit. Your visitor is outside."

"I said NO VISITORS!" the doctor insisted.

The shorter man chuckled and said, "You don't understand. You do not say no to the President of the United States." 

I sat up sharply and said, "I don't wanna talk to that jerk!"

  
  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


FIFTEEN

  


I could hear them talking outside my room. Bubbles was crying.

"Professor, what's wrong with her?" she bawled. "I'm scared!"

Buttercup hid her fear behind anger. "First, she's right about Fuzzy and now the President is going in to see her! I don't like it! If she knows the future, they'll try to use her like some kind of secret weapon!"

What had I done? My sister was smarter than I'd ever given her credit for. What if she was right? Although, from everything I knew about this guy, all he probably cared about was knowing if he was going to jail after he got out of office.

"Now, Buttercup, that's ridiculous. Blossom doesn't know the future! Something happened to cause her to have these fantasies, and it also gave her some temporary psychic abilities. She's just not remembering what, that's all. The President is a very nice man and he only wants to help Blossom if he can! You know how impressed she'll be at meeting him, maybe this will make her snap out of it and remember something she might have done. Don't you worry, Bubbles, your sister will be just fine."

Professor was trying to make them feel better, but he sounded worried. If I could hear it in his voice, so could they. I felt so stupid. Opening my trap was the worst thing I could have done. 

I heard him say, "Let's go get something to eat." I knew he wasn't interested in food, but he wanted to get my sisters away from there. They'd be able to hear everything.

There was no more time to dwell on it. The President came through the door and the two Secret Service agents left, closing the door behind them. I took one look at him and screamed. Everything that I knew to be true flipped upside down. This man, the President of the United States, the most recognized man on earth; I had never seen his face before in any of my lives.

  
  
  
  



	16. Chapter 16

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


SIXTEEN

  


He came and sat on the edge of my bed, looking at me with concern. He appeared to be in his early 40's and in top physical condition; tall, with movie actor looks. He didn't have a single gray hair and his eyes made him seem to be smiling even when he wasn't. It was easy to see how he'd been elected. Except I knew he wasn't the President. 

"Yes, Blossom. I AM the President. I defeated that OTHER GUY in the 1996 election and I've been President for almost three years now. And, Blossom, I'm the President because of YOU."

My mouth fell open. I tried to talk but nothing came out.

"Blossom, you and I are in the middle of something I can't explain. I'm not supposed to be President of the United States but I am. You weren't supposed to kill your family but you did. Blossom, when you did that, I knew I wasn't the only person in the world who was dying and reliving my life over and over again."

I jumped, pulling against my restraints. "You too? I-I'm not alone?"

"No. I know what you've been going through. I tried to reach you last time before I died, but in spite of my wealth and influence, they wouldn't let me see you while you were in prison. I never sent you any mail, fearing it might be opened and read by someone else. I couldn't take that chance."

I was stunned. But this man seemed so open and honest, and he had just said something no one else could possibly have known, or would have believed anyway. I remembered the visitor who came every day, for months. I refused to see him and I never did learn his name. Was it this man? I decided to trust him.

"That was my fault. They did open every piece of mail I got. I could have visitors, but I didn't want to see anyone. That was you who came to see me every day? I thought you were another one of those do-gooders trying to get me off of Death Row. Not that it would have mattered."

"I know. I tried to kill myself once, too."

"You did?" I was shocked.

"Yeah. It was dumb, too, because it couldn't work. Blossom, nothing's going to stand in the way of our deaths at the appointed hour. This isn't over yet, you know. But it may be over soon for me. I had to see you in this timeline, I might not get another chance."

"I don't get it."

"Blossom, let me ask you a few questions. You seem to be a smart young lady, I bet you've been keeping track. When is it that you die?"

"August 19th, next year, at exactly 1:17 in the afternoon. But, wouldn't you know that?"

"Well, I know for sure, now. You see, I always beat you to it, by eight days. August 11th, at nearly the same time, 1:20. Pretty amazing, how close we are. Could have something to do with it. Now, how many times have you died, and if you add up all the time you've lived, how old would you be?"

"Huh? Four times, and, let's see... I was six...I'm eleven years old, now!"

I'd never even thought about that! I'd been living for eleven years, when I added all my lives together. His words snapped me back to attention.

"No, right now, you're still six, and I'm still 52. When we die again, I'll be 53. Blossom, you probably won't believe this, but I think it'll make sense after I explain it. I've died four times, too. Blossom, the first time I died was 105 years ago."

"You're right, I don't believe it."

"One more question. Do you always come back at the same point in your past?"

"No, it's later each time, and...hey, I've lived almost double how old I'm supposed to be. You're older to start with, so the time you've lived would be at least double. It DOES make sense, even though it sounds weird."

He chuckled. "It's BEEN weird. Blossom, I am very impressed. But then, I heard of you Girls way back in my first life and you were always the leader and the smart one. Of course, by now your intelligence would be far beyond that of an average six year-old. Here's something that makes no sense at all. You existed in my first lifetime, although only during the last few years of it; and it ended over a century ago. Yet all of your lifetimes add up to only eleven years. How is THAT possible? Hmmm. Maybe the numbers don't matter. Maybe the only thing that counts is that we exist together at the same time."

"Hey, yeah. You called 'em 'timelines'. Except...you said you might not get another chance. Does that mean I might not, either?"

I was suddenly afraid. After enduring five years of this hell, and wishing that it would all just end, I suddenly got the feeling that the next time I died it would really BE my final, eternal death. It was what I swore I wanted, but now I wasn't so sure.

"I don't know the answer to that. We've lost time each time we've come back. Has your loss of time doubled each time, like mine?"

"Hmmm. The first time it was Christmas, in 1998. Then March 18th, June 8th, and November 19th of this year." 

I did the math in my head. I had lost nearly 3 months, then 5 and a half, now 11. Yes, it was doubling. The next time should be 22 months, from December '98...

"I'm a goner."

"1965, 1970, 1975, 1985...2005. Me too. But we don't know what's waiting for us, do we? Can it really be any worse than this?"

"I guess not. I guess we have to wait and find out."

"Yep. Want to hear my tale of woe?" he said with a big smile.

He made me feel better, but I was still scared. "Sure."

"OK, I'll tell you. But I want to hear yours, first."

Just then, one of the Secret Service agents stuck his head in the door.

"Everything OK, Mr. President? You've been in here quite a while and..."

The President stood and drew himself to his full height, and in a loud, severe tone, said "Agent Riley, I will inform you when I am ready to leave. Is that clear?"

I flinched at the sudden change in this friendly, caring person.

The agent beat a hasty retreat out the door. "Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!"

The President sat back down and was instantly transformed. 

"Blossom, you have no idea how much fun this job can be. Did you see the look on his face?"

I laughed out loud. Dear Diary, I hadn't done that since my second life, the one that had been so perfect.

  
  
  
  



	17. Chapter 17

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


SEVENTEEN

  


I quickly told him about my lives up to what he already knew, from my horrible crime onward to the point when he died again. He listened carefully, asking a question every once in a while. When I got to the part about my execution, he was horrified.

"My God. They actually went through with it!"

I explained to him why I was glad that things turned out that way; that it had given my family the justice they deserved. 

He thought about what I'd said, then he nodded his head slightly.

"Can't argue with that."

Then it was his turn. He was an excellent storyteller, and he had me laughing at parts, weeping at others. He apologized every time I started to cry.

He had been a ho-hum middle manager working for a ho-hum industrial supply company in Pennsylvania when, at 53, he suffered a massive heart attack over his lunch and fell face first into his plate of roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy.

"Wish I could have seen it!" he laughed.

He 'awoke' the first time, at 18, flipping burgers at a drive in. It was the summer of 1965, just before he was to start college. He quickly figured out, just like I did, that he had somehow gotten a second chance, and he vowed not to waste it. Regretting the deferment he took to avoid Vietnam the first time around, he enlisted in the Air Force, and became an ace pilot. He parlayed his wartime record into an airline pilot's career and with his excellent salary and his memory of what stocks had done well over the years, including the fledgling Microsofts and Intels, and during the 90's, the internet boom; he became a multi-millionaire. He met, courted and married the same girl as in his first life. It was a bit strange at first for him, but of course, she had no memory of that first time. He swore to fix everything that had gone wrong; the stagnant career, the poor relationships with his wife and underachieving children, the terrible health habits that led to his premature death in the first place. He succeeded beyond his wildest dreams, and even enjoyed one other benefit he never did previously: three beautiful grandchildren. He had been walking hand in hand along one of the paths of his country estate with the oldest, a dazzlingly radiant girl about my age, when he collapsed and died, never to see her again.

Tears sprang to my eyes as I remembered the mother and unborn brother that had been stolen from me. I knew just how he felt.

He began his third 'life' in the late spring of 1970, one month after finishing grad school. He hadn't yet landed the first crappy job that would lead to the second, and saw no use even bothering to look for work. Severe depression set in almost immediately. The loss of his grandchildren pierced his heart like a sword. Never to be known or loved by anyone, except him, in his memory. To the rest of the world, they would be figments of his imagination but he had held them in his arms, changed their diapers, read them bedtime stories. Who could he tell, who would care or not think he was insane?

The depression, the mourning. It sounded exactly like my experience.

The next six or seven years were spent doing things he felt I didn't need to hear about.

"Let's just say that they were a total waste. That's when I figured out I was trying to kill myself the hard way. I looked for something easier."

"What did you do?"

He had bought himself a cruise on a doomed ship, one that had caught fire and sunk with the loss of all aboard, in both of his pasts.

"We never sailed, due to bad weather. I got depressed, sold my ticket and ...did...other things with the money that night. The ship sailed the next morning, without me, and everyone died, like they were supposed to, just off by one day. I realized how stupid a thing that was to do. I had no control over my death."

"At least you never killed anyone!" I couldn't hold it in any more. I burst into tears. "I'm so ashamed!"

He pulled out a handkerchief and leaned toward me to wipe my face. He lifted my chin and looked right into my eyes. "Blossom, listen to me. That was just pure dumb luck. I used to be a hunter. If I had 'woken up' in a field with a shotgun in my hands, I believe I'd have shot myself. And if anyone was with me and tried to stop me...they'd be dead and I'd find myself injured but still alive, to spend the rest of THAT life in jail. I'm no better than you."

"So when I murdered my family, that's when you knew."

"That's when I knew for certain. To be honest with you, I thought something might be up when you ran away and disappeared for awhile, during our previous timelines. But you came back, and I wasn't really positive and was leery of stepping forward. And because I always die before you, I never knew you were dying, too. Then in my next turn, which started in 1975, I started watching for something to happen that had never happened, looking for others like me, and never found one. But by the time you Girls were created again, 24 years had passed and your running away had slipped my mind. The murders turned that all around. If there's anyone else like us, Blossom, I haven't heard about them."

Now, I wished I'd let him in to see me while I was in prison. If I had learned all this then, I could've saved my family the pain I was causing them now. Then I remembered something.

"Hey, if you knew as soon as you heard the news, why did you ask me when I die? I told everybody, right in court!"

"Yes, you sure did. That was some performance you gave. I was there."

I was shocked. "You were?"

"Yes, I was. But, remember, because I die before you, I didn't REALLY know until you told me when I asked you. I tried to make contact with you the day of your court hearing, but you were pretty well guarded. I couldn't get anywhere near you."

I remembered it well.

"Well, you're here now. Why did you have to be President to tell me this?"

"I needed to confront you with something that would be totally new to you. Something that was different from what you KNEW to be true. And I needed to be powerful enough to overcome any obstacle to being able to talk to you privately, like this. And, I didn't know what circumstances you'd be in when you 'showed up' again, so I also had to be in a position where I could help you if you were in a jam. Like now. Being President took care of all of those possibilities quite nicely."

"I'm not sure I get it."

"I had to let you know you weren't alone. Blossom, just like you, I didn't understand what was happening to me but after the second time I realized it would happen over and over and I couldn't control it. The only thing I could control was how I decided to live my life. I wanted to change the world for the better. By doing social work I could help a few people, but by amassing wealth, I could fund many groups who would help thousands. I'd already done it once, so it was easy. When I learned about you, I knew I had to do something to help you. But, when I came to visit you in prison, I was a very wealthy, respected person and it didn't get me in to see you. If I were the same today, it wouldn't have gotten me through that door over there."

He paused to see if I was following. I nodded for him to go on.

"Even if I was sitting here as one of your doctors, telling you I believed everything you said because the same thing happened to me, would you buy it?"

"Sure!" I said. "Why not?"

"And do you think I, as only one of many doctors, would have the authority to get you out of here?"

I suddenly understood. His agents were right, you didn't tell the President no. I was very happy at that moment.

He smiled again. "Besides, although I went after this job for only one reason, I've had to actually BE the President while I waited for this day to come. I think I've been a pretty good one. I just wish I could keep doing it a bit longer."

I knew what he meant. "What's going to happen to us?"

He stood up. "I'm going to keep on being a good President and you're going to keep on being a good Powerpuff Girl. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine. I'm getting you out of here today, but Blossom, you have to promise me something."

"Anything!" I practically shouted.

"You don't talk about any of this again. No more predicting the future, especially concerning the fate of a certain elected official. My boys don't fool around; I'd hate to see you wind up in prison again."

He was smiling when he said it.

"Don't worry, I won't! I want to ask you for a favor, but you might think it's kind of sick."

"No, not at all. Go ahead."

"Can I come to the funeral?"

He sat back down. "Why, Blossom, that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me. I'd like that a whole lot."

He stood up again, smiling. "Wait right here!" Then he dashed from the room. I giggled. Where was I going to go?

He was back with one of the doctors. "Get those restraints off her, now!"

The second I was free, I flew off the bed and hugged him tightly, my eyes full of tears. "Thank you! Thank you!"

He pulled me away from him and wiped my face with his hand. "No, Blossom, thank YOU."

He waited until the doctor left and we were alone again.

"Remember what I said, whatever happens can't be any worse than what we've been through. You don't have to be afraid anymore."

He hugged me again quickly, then he put me down on the bed.

"Oh, one other thing. I'm going to tell the Professor that you promised me you'd never mess around with chemicals in his laboratory ever again, which is what you were doing right before you sat down to watch TV that night, am I correct?" He winked at me.

"Yes sir! I promise!" The man was a genius.

"I have to go now. You know, bills to sign, junk like that." Then he was gone.

  
  
  
  



	18. Chapter 18

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


EIGHTEEN

  


Life, or what was left of it for me, eventually got back to normal. Professor bought my new friend's fib. That took care of it as far as he and the rest of the world were concerned.

With Buttercup and Bubbles, it was different, at least for awhile. They knew me a little too well. They kept asking questions about the President, about the future, about the other, horrible things I'd spoken of. I kept brushing them off. I told them that the President was a really nice man and that there was something that he made me promise to never tell. Which was true.

"Wow. The President told YOU a secret?"

About the rest of it, I had nothing to say.

"Gee, guys, I don't remember any of that stuff. Those must have been some nasty chemicals I got into if they made me talk crazy like that!"

"But, how come you knew what was gonna happen with Fuzzy?" Bubbles demanded. Buttercup was watching me very carefully.

I blamed it on the 'para-psycho junk' caused by the 'chemicals'.

Pretty soon, they forgot about it and life went on. We did our jobs protecting Townsville but other than that, we were like any other six year-olds. I did start paying more attention to the world outside, though; watching with interest what my secret friend, the President, was doing.

2000 was an election year and I wondered how he would handle it. He knew he'd never see Election Day but he was so popular it was unthinkable for him to not run.

He dropped the bomb in February, announcing that his doctors advised him against it due to a recently discovered 'condition'. I smiled. He was preparing the world for the shock. The more I watched and learned, I saw that he had picked the right person for Vice President, someone who would make a great leader, and had the full support of the President and much of Congress and the press, too. Though my friend and I wouldn't be around to see it, America would have its first woman President. At least in this world. When and if I lived one more time, our national disgrace would still be in office. Then it hit me, I WOULD get to see this woman be President. Just for a week, but at least I would always know that it did happen.

Winter passed into spring and then summer as we graduated from first grade. I did my best keeping Professor away from his experiments to spend time with us. I wanted the three of us to enjoy as many good times with him as possible that summer so they could remember them after I was gone. I made sure I told them every night before bed that I loved them. It was something I hadn't done enough.

The days ran like sand through an hourglass and I couldn't slow them down. It was finally the morning of August 11th. I was thankful we had no crime to fight because I wanted to be home when it happened. I suggested a good, tough training session in the Danger Room to get my mind off it and make the morning pass faster. Buttercup was all for it and we had a great workout. Almost before we knew it, Professor was calling us for lunch.

It was almost one when we finished eating, and I went outside. I sat on our little bench in the shade of my favorite tree. I hoped the Girls would stay inside so I could be alone with my thoughts, and they did. My heart pounded faster and faster as I looked at my watch. What was he feeling at that moment? Was he afraid? If this was really the end for him, and for me in 8 more days, I wanted peace for both of us.

At 1:20, I closed my eyes and prayed for that very thing. I sat there with my eyes closed, willing the tears to stay out of them. When the news broke, my sisters would come charging out to tell me and I had to act like I was shocked. They weren't stupid, and to be crying, acting like I knew it was coming, would get them to remembering my rant about my own death. I didn't want to start that all over again. As soon as they told me, then the flood could start.

  
  


* * *

  
  


I knelt there in front of my friend the President's flag-draped casket with tears running down my face until it was time for us to move along. The thing was, though, I wasn't crying for him. I didn't know if he was 'reliving' again or if the thing, whatever it was that had hold of us, creature, spirit or cosmic fluke, had finally let him be. But, somehow, I felt that he was okay. 

I cried because Bubbles was crying. Buttercup was awed by the hugeness of the Capitol Rotunda, where we were part of the hundreds of thousands that filed through, paying our respects. She just stared all around her, at the military honor guard, the faces of the famous people she'd seen on TV but whose names she didn't know. Bubbles seemed awed, too; right until it was our turn. I don't know why, because she didn't know him, only talked to him for maybe a minute that once at the hospital. Maybe she was feeling bad for me, or because of her sensitive nature, she felt the sadness that most of the world felt. But as we knelt briefly, she began to cry; and it suddenly hit me that in less than a week, she would be wearing the same black dress, kneeling before my coffin. I'd never really thought about my other four funerals before now; three where I'd probably been treated like some kind of hero though I didn't deserve it, and that one. A cheap pine box in an unmarked convict's grave, and that was too good for me. But my mind pictured the one to come, and when I saw the pitiful look on Bubbles' face, I started to lose it. I reached out and took her hand, wanting to tell her not to cry for me; but of course, I couldn't do that. Buttercup saw, and took Bubbles' other hand, and she started crying, too. Professor quickly put his strong hands on our shoulders and gently eased us away to let the next mourners have their turn.

  
  
  
  



	19. Chapter 19

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


NINETEEN

  


When we got home from Washington, I was down to three days. I wanted them to be remembered by Buttercup, Bubbles and Professor as filled with wonderful moments. But we didn't get that; in fact, the first two days back home were two of our busiest days on the job I can EVER remember. On Thursday, we had to rescue hundreds of people when some tanks full of chlorine exploded at a chemical plant. Right after that there was a bank robbery, and as soon as we dumped the idiots off at jail, we had to go across town to put out a huge fire that wiped out two city blocks. The thing seemed to have started out of nowhere, and just when it looked like we had it taken care of, flames sprouted up in another spot. When it was finally safe to let the fire department take over the cleanup, we headed for home. It was almost six and we were tired, filthy and hadn't eaten since breakfast. The minute we flew into our room, the hotline went off. I almost fried the stupid thing, I was so angry; but I answered it. It was Mayor, some monster attacking downtown, yadda yadda yadda. We were so fed up we were ready to rip whatever it was to shreds with our teeth when we got there. Bubbles surprised me with what she said.

"Hey, guys? It's almost like Him's been watching us all day in his crystal ball, waitin' until we're the most tired, to send that stupid monster out here!"

Before we could blink, the monster evaporated into nothingness and Him was floating there with that smile of his.

"Why, Girls! I underestimated you! You're getting smarter all the time! Well, don't worry, I'll be back soon with something you'll REALLY love!"

I had a sudden appetite for lobster. We were all over him, and I practically had one of his claws torn off while Buttercup and Bubbles were bashing his face in; when he managed to croak out a spell and escape. Furious, we flew straight home, but on the way there, I thought of something and started to smile.

"Girls?"

"What?!" they both snapped at me.

They were going to have their happy memories after all.

"When's the last time we saw this much action in one day?"

"Huh?" Bubbles said. "Maybe never!"

Buttercup saw me grinning at her, and she got it. 

"Hey, we're the Powerpuff Girls! What the heck are we complaining about?!"

"Yeah, guys," I told them. "The only thing wrong with today is we didn't spend any time with Professor."

So, when we got home, we told him all about it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


I usually slept on the right, so I could be near the hotline. Those last two nights, I insisted on sleeping in the middle because I wanted to feel the presence of both of my sisters for as long as I could. Buttercup didn't complain. She relished the chance to grab the phone first.

Friday was just as busy, and the only thing wrong with it was the time just flew by too fast. Suddenly, I was facing my last night with my family, this time anyway, and maybe forever. I talked Professor into letting us stay up until ten, but that was it. When I woke up in the morning, I would be out of tomorrows.

Bubbles flew out of bed at the first ring of the alarm clock, eager for another busy day. I got up and dressed quickly; each moment was precious now. Buttercup moved much slower than normal, and seemed preoccupied with something. Bubbles had already zipped downstairs, and I was about to, when Buttercup grabbed me by the shoulder, pulled me into the bathroom, and shut the door.

"What's the matter, Buttercup?" She looked like she had in the hospital, right after my 'prediction' about Fuzzy Lumkins proved to be true.

"Blossom, I-I-..." She gulped and swallowed. "I got a real bad feeling about today!"

Damn! She'd given no sign of this coming, why now? I pulled the bathroom door open and pointed out toward the morning sun coming in through our bedroom windows.

"Buttercup, look at it out there! It's Saturday, we just had two of our busiest days ever so I'm sure today'll be quiet, we can spend the whole day with Professor! What's the problem?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I didn't forget that stuff you said in the hospital. I know what today is!"

"Well, I don't!" I laughed. "Well, it's Saturday, of course. Look, Buttercup, you know I got sick and was talking nonsense. I don't even remember most of it. Now, get dressed and let's go eat!"

She didn't move. "I hope we don't hafta go out today, that's all." she said in a small voice I'd never heard from her before.

"Well, I'll tell ya what, if we do, you stay home and me and Bubbles will take care of it."

"No!" she screamed, and hugged me tight. "I'm not lettin' you out of my sight!"

Her hot tears ran down the side of my face. 

"Promise me you'll be careful today! Promise me!"

I dammed my tears up; afraid they would burst any second. Oh, God, the torture was never going to stop! In a few hours, she would look back on this scene and it would haunt her for the rest of her life.

I pushed her away. "Buttercup, were you in the lab last night when nobody was looking?"

"Huh? Why?"

"Because now you're the one who's talking crazy. We better have Professor look at you."

"No! There's nothing wrong with me!"

"Then stop it, right now!" I commanded. I hated myself at that moment, Dear Diary, for the lie I was about to tell. I was afraid she would hate me for it after I was gone. "Nothing is going to happen today! Now, I'm hungry, so I'll see you downstairs." 

I flew down to the basement and locked myself in the powder room, to let it all out in private.

  
  
  
  



	20. Chapter 20

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


TWENTY

  


I needed something to do. But Buttercup was watching my every move, and to suddenly engage in a burst of activity to take my mind off of it would have raised her suspicions even more. So I forced myself to sit with her and Bubbles; watching cartoons until it was time to go grocery shopping. I did a great acting job, because Buttercup quit paying attention to me and barely noticed when I left the room to get Professor at a little before eleven.

"What's it going to be today, Girls?" he said to us in the car on the way to Malph's.

"Why don't we let Buttercup decide what she wants to do?" I suggested.

"What? Why her?" Bubbles complained. Professor seemed curious, too; he looked up in the rear view mirror at me with his eyebrows raised.

Buttercup was staring at me. I looked back at her and said "I think we should, that's all. We've had two really hard days and I know how much you love the action, sis, but you had me worried this morning. I think the stress is gettin' to ya'."

It worked. "Oh yeah? That'll be the day! Professor? Can I really do what I want?"

"Of course, dear."

"Great! Soon as we get home, I'll show ya' who's stressed out! Professor, I want you to throw the meanest, toughest monsters at us you can think up. We'll go one at a time, an' the other two'll sit blindfolded so they can't see what the one of us is doing!"

She meant in the Danger Room, of course. It was a great idea. "Hey, cool!" I said. "Like 'Win Ben Stein's Money' with monsters!" 

"Exactly!" Bubbles said, grinning. "I'll whip the skirts offa both of ya'!"

I was sorry we'd never get to play, but now Buttercup's thoughts were completely off of me.

"Heeya!" She kicked out her right foot, and poked it through the duct tape over the last hole she made in the back of the passenger seat. "Ooops!"

"Now, Girls, let's not have any of that in the store, okay?"

  
  


* * *

  
  


Filling up the shopping cart with stuff I would never use was weird, so I tried not to think about it; and I didn't pay any attention to the time, either. It would be here soon enough.

We put everything away and Buttercup and Bubbles grabbed a fast lunch. They were so looking forward to our 'game' that they didn't notice my lack of appetite. I won the round-robin coin flip and got to go first. I held on to the slimmest shred of hope that my good luck meant I might learn something from this exercise that would save me; forgetting all about the death of my friend. As soon as I realized my mistake, I was struck by the horrible thought that I might die right there in the Danger Room, due to some accident. I suddenly WANTED to know what time it was, and prayed for the hotline to ring, anything to get me out of there and spare Professor the pain of living with something that he would think was his fault. I slashed away blindly, not seeing what I was hitting, not caring, not hearing a sound.

Without warning I was on my back, pinned to the ground, and I thought, "Oh, no, it happened in here!" I looked up to see my sisters, holding me down, shouting.

"We gotta go, Blossom, there's a monster for real!" Bubbles was saying.

We took off, calling goodbye to Professor while he called after us to be careful. I let Buttercup lead us toward downtown.

"Dang, girl, what got into you? From the time we got our blindfolds off 'til we stopped you, you wasted three monsters! Professor said you took out ten altogether and he had the danger level to thirteen already!"

I had to stay nonchalant. "Oh, just showing off. You know me, Buttercup!"

"Well, I hope you saved some for this palooka!"

A sense of deja vu came over me and I knew what I was going to see before I saw it. It was the porcupine-thing again. I didn't even bother wondering how or why, just gave the orders like before to watch out for the quills. I knew it would be a ricochet, so I positioned myself with some buildings at my back. I'd be able to see and avoid any quills that might come in to bounce off those walls. After Bubbles broke the monster's eardrums and I froze it, we started to pound on it where it lay on the crushed store. That's when I noticed something was wrong- Buttercup was missing! I whirled, and there she was, watching me. She hadn't forgotten at all, she wasn't letting me out of her sight. She was watching my back, just like she promised me, but who was watching hers? That's when I saw them.

"Buttercup! Nooooo!"

Bubbles saw them, too. A split second and thirty feet behind me; we took off trying to reach Buttercup before the quills did. She turned, saw them, and froze; but I was able to shove her aside just in time. The timing was perfect for if Bubbles had been just a few feet behind me instead of thirty, she'd have gotten it from a dozen razor sharp quills. Instead, they zipped by harmlessly in front of her. Buttercup turned and grabbed hold of me and Bubbles latched onto me as well. I expected one of our congratulatory celebrations in mid-air and couldn't understand the looks on their faces.

Because of the adrenaline shooting through me, I hadn't even felt it. But now that strange, familiar sensation was back, and so was the stain spreading on the front of my dress. What a fool I was to think I'd really beaten this thing! But, for the first time ever in my life, I managed to say something before I died. Though everything was going dark, I reached out to touch my sisters' faces, and said "I'm sorry."

  
  
  
  



	21. Chapter 21

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


TWENTY-ONE

  


'For the first time ever in my life, I managed to say something before I died.'

I know, Dear Diary; that sounds really strange. But things were about to get even stranger. From everything my friend and I had guessed, our deaths should have been it. We should be in heaven, hell or wherever it was we were going. But we were wrong. Or, I was, at least. I couldn't really speak for him, could I?

I was streaking toward the belly of the porcupine monster. Buttercup was already stomping it, good, and Bubbles was nearly to its head, ready to bash it in. I've had time to think about it, and I realize that this was just like the first time, so long ago now. There wasn't time for me to think about how to avoid what had to be coming. So I got my licks in, too. When it looked to me like the thing was finished, I stood up and started to tell Buttercup to get rid of it. That's when I felt the bee sting again, and I was on my knees, watching the quill sail through the parked car. 

It wasn't EXACTLY like the first time. I remembered that at moving in slow motion, now it was over in seconds. I saw the anguish on their faces, felt their tears falling on me, tasted the blood in my mouth. Felt them hugging me and heard Buttercup's sobbing plea. Saw Bubbles watch: 1:17. Felt the icy darkness.

Then, I was alive again, this time a few feet closer to the monster than before, but the rest of it was the same. There was no time to think, no chance to react. In the next few minutes, hours? Nanoseconds? I have no idea. I must have died a hundred times. It was like one of those flip movies we used to make. You know, when you draw something on the bottom of a pad, and on the next page you draw the same thing a little bit farther along, doing whatever it is you want to show. Then when you're done, you flip the pages and it's like a little movie. That's what it was like. Pounding on the monster, standing up, the bee sting. Over and over and over. Their faces, their shouts, the tears, the blood, Buttercup's choked words; all of it whirled into a kaleidoscope of torment that wouldn't end. Finally, this HAD to be what Hell was. My brain screamed out "Please, make it stop, make it STOP, MAKE IT STOP!!!" Then, there was only blackness.

  
  
  
  



	22. Chapter 22

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


TWENTY-TWO

  


Well, Dear Diary, tomorrow's the big day. The doctors say I can go home, but it's going to be awhile before I can even go in the Danger Room to train, let alone get back to fighting crime alongside my sisters. They've been doing a terrific job without me, though. 

They've been really great, Professor, too. They practically moved in here but I finally convinced them they'd be helping me out more if they slept at home where they were used to it; that I worried about them worrying about me. They're now keeping their visits down to an hour a couple times a day. To be honest, Dear Diary, I've been glad to have the privacy to think, and to write in you. I'm not any closer to figuring this out.

The doctors told me I was lucky; a half an inch either way and they wouldn't have been able to save me. As it was, the operation to fix the hole in my heart took seven hours and I was in a coma for another two days after.

"So what's the problem?", you might ask. What's to figure out? Doesn't the coma explain everything? I could have dreamed up this whole insane story during those two days, with the drugs helping out a whole lot. In fact, I overheard the doctors telling Professor that there were a few times when I was very close to not making it. That would explain all of my 'deaths'. Each time I 'died' was when I was close to actually dying, and each episode of 'reliving' was my brain's drug-inspired reaction to it. Makes a lot of sense, when you stop and think about it. So, what's the problem?

Here's the problem. Everyone's been great to me. Mayor and Ms. Bellum and Ms. Keane and lots of my other friends have come to see me. My room was so full of stuffed toys and balloons and stuff you couldn't even move. Bubbles took home a few she really liked and they gave the rest to the sick kids here and the other hospitals in Townsville. It's slowing down now, but there's been so many get-well cards I haven't been able to read half of them yet. From all over the world, from places even I haven't heard of, imagine that!

Sounds like I'm complaining, doesn't it? What could be wrong with such an outpouring of love and support? Nothing at all, and I'm grateful for it, really. Except for one thing.

Today is September 2nd. The 'accident' happened two weeks ago. I came out of the coma early on Tuesday, the 22nd. After a day of disbelief that I was actually alive beyond August the 19th, mixed with my joy at seeing my family; I felt up to reading some of my 'fan mail'. The hospital did a nice job of keeping it in the order it came in, and I was looking at the return addresses to see all the different places they were from. I'd gotten through about twenty when the next one had no return address. I looked at the postmark; sometimes they have the city on them. This one didn't even have that. I felt a bolt of ice shoot down my spine when I saw the date. It had been mailed on the 17th. Two days too soon. I'm glad no one was here to see my face when I ripped open the envelope.

Inside was a nice card, and in the card were two neatly folded sheets, typed and double-spaced.

Dear Blossom

I sent you this a bit early because I wanted it to be one of the first things you see. I want you to know that what happened to us was real. I can't get the memory of seeing you chained to that hospital bed out of my mind and don't want you to ever have to go through that again. 

I don't know what physical state you will have found yourself in when you wake up, (though I'm sure it'll make the evening news!) but there is a good chance you will think it was all a dream. That would be a nice, clean way to make it go away, but someday those dreams will come back to torture us. We know in our hearts it all happened and the only way to get beyond it is to deal with it. That's not as easy as it sounds, because we have no one to talk to about it.

We do need to get it out somehow. I have a big advantage, because I've lived so many more years than you and have experienced many more things. I've decided to quit my job and write. I have enough crazy experiences inside of me for a dozen books, and at my age, I can get away with anything. My reality will be fiction for others. You won't have such an easy time, I'm afraid. Such things coming from a child aren't well received by the adult world, as you well know. Still, I think you should write down everything you can remember while it's still fresh. Maybe a diary or something that you won't be showing to anyone. Maybe when you are older, you'll want to do something with your memories. 

Keep them or forget them, but don't let them torture you. Blossom, whatever guilt or bad feelings you may have over things you've done, please let go of them. I am no closer to understanding what it was that we were caught up in, and I've had over a hundred years to think about it. I've found no religious writings to explain it and have come to the conclusion that thinking about it will just give us a headache. Knowing will not change anything that's already happened, will it? 

All I know is that our futures are as blank as the empty pages I am starting to fill up. The only thing we can change is what we decide to do with our lives, starting today. I know that you and your sisters are going to go on and do wonderful things with yours. I think it's best that you don't know who I am (well, you know my name, but I'll be writing under a pen name), but I want you to know that I will be following your careers as you grow into the fine young adults I know you will become. If I'm around that long; I'm home recuperating from that heart attack and I need to clean up my act if I don't want another. I don't look anything like that guy you met. I'll tell you one thing, I never want to see roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy again! I must have fallen into that plate a hundred times before it finally stopped. That was quite strange, but I suspect that I'm very lucky compared to what you must have gone through. But you are a strong person, Blossom, and I know you can handle it. You and those sisters of yours are very special now, but you are going to really be something when you grow up, and the world will be a much better place because of it. You know, I think you and I have more in common than just what we experienced. I believe you're going to make a good President yourself, someday. I hope I'm still around when it happens.

Your friend, 

The 'President'

  
  
  
  



	23. Chapter 23

DYING TO LIVE

  
  
  


A PpG 'alternate reality' fan fiction  
  
By I am a good fighter 

  


DISCLAIMER: Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network

  


Story idea adapted from the novel 'Replay' (c) 1986 by Ken Grimwood

  


This story is rated PG-13

  
  
  


TWENTY-THREE - THE CONCLUSION

  


Dear Diary: Today is Tuesday, September 5th. I've been home two days, and it's been wonderful. I'm feeling pretty good. Professor let me fly today for fifteen minutes, and after, I checked out normal. This weekend, he's going to let me start training, but I still can't go with the Girls on a call. I'm tempted to, anyway; I can handle it.

Tomorrow, I begin second grade. I can't wait! But the best thing about being home is just being here. When we came home from the hospital, I went around the house just touching things, it was like I was seeing them again after being gone for years, even though it was only two weeks. My necklace with the photo locket is right there in my jewelry box, though this one's never ever been to the Himalayas or the Amazon. And though DyNaMo wasn't built in my second through fifth lives, she's down there in her concrete prison, covered with dust and cobwebs. Everything is the way it's supposed to be again. It feels so good to be back in my home; during my first, second and fourth repeats I was home too, but aside from my nearly perfect second life, I never really felt like I belonged there.

When I last wrote, Dear Diary, I was telling you about my problem. Since then, I've read that letter again and again; and there is no problem. When I first read it, I put it away and didn't look at it again until I told you about it. And when I got to the part where I wrote it down, I was still very upset, too upset to even put those feelings into words. Why couldn't he have left me alone, to believe it was all just a horrible nightmare from my two days in the coma? But everything he said is true, and he helped me just as much as he helped me when he came to see me as President, when I was a prisoner in the mental ward. If I believed it was all a dream, there would always be a small part of me insisting that it had really happened, and the rest of my life would be filled with tortured doubt. But it DID happen. Now that I know the truth, I can deal with it and move on, just like he said. It won't be easy, but I will try to take the good from my experiences and let the rest go. If I learned nothing else from all of this, I know now that my sisters are my equals. I will never underestimate them again. And I will try not to take things for granted and keep in mind that every moment of every day is a precious gift to not be wasted.

I've gone back to the very beginning of my story, Dear Diary, which I started writing almost two weeks ago, right after I first read the letter. I read again the words I first wrote. I still have no explanation for everything that happened, but I am no longer confused. Knowing why WON'T change anything. And writing it all down DID help.

I'm going to put you away in a safe place, Dear Diary. Someday, like my friend says, I may do something with these memories. But right now, I'm tired of dwelling on my written past. The blank pages in the book of my life are open in front of me. Second grade, and the rest of my future, await!

  


THE END

Author's Note: If the story idea seemed similar to the movie 'Groundhog Day', you should know that the novel 'Replay' was published well before the film was made.

Please email your comments/critiques to i_am_a_good_fighter@yahoo.com 

  
  
  
  



End file.
